


Little Row Boat

by WolfaMoon



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Caring Napoleon, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e12 Concrete Overcoat Affair Part II, Friendship, Hurt Illya, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfaMoon/pseuds/WolfaMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scene from the concrete overcoat affair. What happens between the island and getting back to shore on a little fishing boat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Row Boat

Little Row Boat  
BY; Wolfa Moon  
SUMMARY  
Missing Scene from the concrete overcoat affair. What happens between the island and getting back to shore on a little fishing boat?  
Disclaimer: Nope

Illya withered on the bed in the boat hold. The events of the past week catching up to him. Being flipped in a car, tortured, and then swimming through the cold ocean. He needs a vacation from all this violence. Yet all he wants right now is to rest but it alludes him. The pain fires a new. He whimpers lightly.  
Pia comes in at the noise. Her female intuition coming at the sound of pain. Spying Illya on the bed she goes to him. She had tried to take care of him in the cell but there was only so much she could do in there. Moving to him she tries to feel his head but he shies away.  
“Illya, it’s Pia.” She moves to wet a cloth to lay on his forehead. But he begins to thrash a little as she tries to help. Seeing she can’t, she goes to his friend.   
Above deck Napoleon rubs his sore throat as he listens to the uncles argue and reminisce.  
“Napoleon?” all conversation stops at her entrance.  
“Yes,” he croaks.  
“Illya is sick.” Napoleon nods to her then excuses himself before going below deck. Spying Illya on the bed thrashing he moves quickly. Reaching out he grabs the moving arms. Illya whimpers as his arms are held. The cuts opening as he struggles.  
“Illya,” Napoleon tries but it sounds garbled. “Illya.” He takes a breath.  
“Napoleon, “ he whimpers trying to fight the hold. Napoleon lets go to move the cloth back on the blonde’s brow. Then he notices the blood. Looking at his hand he looks down to the arms. Seeing the cuts he looks to Pia. There is concern there but she is moving to get the med kit.   
Napoleon lifts the shirt up. Or what remains of a shirt. There are burn marks and more cuts. Then there are bruises. Some fresh with color. The one on his hip from the car is turning yellow.  
“What caused that?” Pia asks.   
“The bruises are from a car accident we had. The cuts and the electric burns are from Ms. Diketon.”  
“Terrible woman.” Pia says pulling iodine wipes from the kit. Napoleon glares at them knowing the bite of them but the wounds need to be cleaned.  
“Pia, I think you should go upstairs while I administer to Illya.”  
“I can help.”  
“That’s not. Illya and I are trained agents. I don’t want him hurting you by accident.” She huffs at him. She is a strong Italian woman. Moving to Illya’s head she lays it in her lap. Placing a cloth on his forehead she begins to coo at Illya in Italian.   
Groaning inside he hates what he has to do. Looking at the wounds he doesn’t want to inflict more pain on his friend. Yet if he doesn’t Illya could get an infection and be more off than he is already.  
“Sorry Illya.” Napoleon goes to work. Cleaning the arms and binding them. The Russian struggles but is too weak to fight off the administration. Napoleon hates seeing his friend this weak. Continuing on he cleans the man’s chest. “Easy, easy.” Illya bucks when he tries to take a look at the burns. Pain filled yelps fill the air as he cleans a particular deep burn.   
“That vile woman.” Pia spits out.  
“Yes she was. But she helped in the end.”  
“Only for her own gains.” Napoleon tilts his head at the truth.   
The door opens and one of the uncles comes down.  
“My, my.” He shakes his head seeing the wounded blond. “Just making sure no funny business is going on.”  
“None,” Napoleon tapes another bandage over the cuts. “Do you have any extra clothes he can borrow?”  
“We still have those thrushy shirts.”  
“Good, I need one.” Napoleon begins to put cream on the burns. Illya jolts and begins to fight. Napoleon has to get up and practically lay on Illya to get him to stop. “ILLYA!” The man thrashes. Bucking Napoleon. “Illya, it’s Napoleon. You’re safe.” He pushes down on the hold he has on Illya’s arms. “Illya, it’s Napoleon. You’re safe.” He grunts out the words fighting the smaller man. “You’re safe.” He says calmly. The body laze under him. The blue eyes open.  
Through the haze of pain he looks at Napoleon.  
“Napoleon?”  
“Yes, Illya. I’m here. Let me finish cleaning the burns then you can rest.”  
“I’m pooped.”  
“Then rest. Almost done.” Illya remained pliant as Napoleon finished fixing the burns. Pia places a cloth on Illya’s forehead again. Feet, her uncle, comes down and hands over a thrush uniform top. “Thank you.”  
“The little biondo, going to be okay.”  
“Given some rest he will be ready to fight another day.”  
“You kids these days. All new rules.” Napoleon couldn’t agree more.   
“Pia, can you help me lift him up.” Napoleon moves forward hugging the biondo to his chest. Pia gasps. “What?”  
“He has scars on his back.”  
“Yes another vile woman.” Pia takes a breath at that. Napoleon realizing now why Illya has an avoidance of the feminine gender. They always keep hurting him to leave scars. Memories he can’t rid himself of. “Any wounds?”  
“No, thank goodness.” She takes the shirt and begins to manipulate Illya’s arms into them. Then that finished she takes Illya’s shoulders and pulls him back toward her. Illya’s head securely in her lap. Napoleon begins to do up the buttons. “Poor thing.”  
Napoleon can’t agree more. Laying a hand on Illya’s shoulder.  
“Rest my friend.” Then he looks to Pia. “Watch him fro me.”  
“Of course.” Napoleon goes above deck to notify Waverly.

AN/ I hate how they get injured and miraculously are better again. So some pure Illya whumping..


End file.
